The Lady Killer
by orlande22
Summary: Lady Foster is desperate to escape her life of loss, finding a use for her unusual talents at sea. A spy for king and country, she is desperate to leave England behind. She has closed her heart forever but maybe she has found the one man who can open it once more. Non cannon, reviews very much appreciated :)
1. Chapter 1

It was a bright, clear morning. The chill on the air made the day feel more like autumn than the mid-summer it was supposed to be. Wrapping my borrowed great-coat around my shoulders more tightly I stepped onto the gang plank.

The truth was I couldn't wait to set sail and be gone from the country that now held nothing for me. I had sold myself into a life of servitude and I was glad of it. From now on my life would be danger; the job I was now to undertake would mean that being caught behind enemy lines would result in a firing squad or at least set to rot in a Spanish prison. From now on I was a spy in His most Britannic Majesties Navy.

As a woman I was invaluable, far less suspicious than my male counterparts. It was a life I was never born to. You see, I was a Lady in more than just gender. With my father dead, and my husband with him, I had inherited vast swathes of English countryside; Land, properties and money fell into my lap overnight. I was rich but I wanted nothing more than to be as far away as possible, so I ran away. I wrote to the admiralty and offered my services as a spy. I had learned to defend myself at an early age, making use of my brothers fencing tutors, and my grasp of language. My naturally suspicious mind and a deviousness I'm convinced all women posses made me the ideal candidate.

So, you see, it wasn't a whim; I was well trained for this. It was how I met my husband, an English noble-man spying for King and country, and he was beautiful. I loved him from the first and I love him still. Our magnificent home was filled with nothing but memories. Memories of our life together, of the life we planned to build. I could not bear another minute in that house, in that bed which had once held such joy for me. I wanted nothing more than to leave, to run, to hide myself where the pain would never find me.

The great-coat I wore concealed the dress beneath; I would have to find more suitable attire. I made my way to the Captain's cabin when a large figure blocked my path.

"What brings you here, my lad? A stowaway, and in such a fine coat." He made to pull my collar.

"Let me pass," I said, trying to shrug him off, "I have business with me Captain."

I raised my hand to push him aside and he took hold of my wrist in a hand that was rough and chapped as the ropes they climbed. A warning rang in my head and I heard a whistle sounding further down the deck. Preparing to lash out I curled my hand into a fist.

"Release me or it will be to your detriment," I warned him.

He chuckled in a menacing way and reached to pull the hat from my head, he tugged it off and my hair spilled around my shoulders. His gasp of surprise was not the only one I heard.

"Styles, what are you about?"

The man called Styles had the grace to look abashed and dropped my wrist immediately.

"Sorry Mr. Kennedy, Sir," he mumbled, his face rapidly colouring as he looked from Mr. Kennedy to me.

"As you were, Styles, and don't let me catch you bothering our guest again."

"Aye aye, Sir." Styles hurried across the deck, joining a gaggle of grubby looking sailors.

Brushing my hair from my face I turned to face my rescuer. Before me stood a tall, thoughtful looking young man, fair and tanned, in a lieutenant's uniform.

"He won't bother you again, he is all bark and no bite," My Kennedy informed me, his eyes gleaming.

"Thank you Mr Kennedy," I said, rubbing my wrist where a bruise was beginning to form, "I wasn't expecting a welcome party."

"Styles can be rather...enthusiastic, but he means no harm," Mr Kennedy smiled, "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Madam. You know my name but I do not know yours."

Mr Kennedy had the gleam of a young man, confident in his youth, a handsome smile and friendly demeanour. Yet behind the smile there was something more, something darker. There were scars under the smiles.

"Lady Evangeline Foster, at your service. I need to see your Captain; I have documents that require his attention." Mr Kennedy looked a great deal more uncomfortable than he had done before; he had obviously not expected a Lady to be on his deck this morning. He stood looking at me for a little longer than I was comfortable with, a rather glazed expression fixed his features.

"Your Captain, Mr Kennedy, I need to speak with him."

Mr Kennedy seemed to come to his senses, the fog clearing behind his clear blue eyes.

"Right, yes, the Captain," he stammered, "Allow me to escort you?"

He held his arm out, which I took, and we made our way across the deck to the Captain's cabin. There was an amicable silence and I allowed myself to enjoy the feel of his arm beneath my fingers. Had it been so long since I had taken a man's arm? He felt warm and strong, giving me comfort on that chilly morning. I allowed myself to study my unfamiliar surroundings, to hear the wind in the rigging making the ropes crack, to see the bright sun glinting from the polished railings. The men running up and down the rigging stopped to stare as we walked past, no doubt it had been an age since a woman, let alone a Lady, had walked this deck.

After all too short a walk we reached the Captain's door and Archie rapped smartly on the door, the Marine standing watch eyeing me with interest. This was going to take some getting used to.

"Enter!" A voice beyond the door called. Archie turned the handle and ushered me inside. I released his arm, rather regretfully, and entered the room. It was a small, dark room filled with a large desk covered in charts. Behind the desk sat an elderly Captain, his white hair practically tied back away from a face lined and worn. When he looked at me there was something unpleasant behind his eyes.

"Welcome! Welcome," he cried, a sickly sweet tone in his voice and a simpering smile on his face, "Welcome to His Majesties Ship Renown!"

I smiled, less than enthusiastically, back at him. A sideways glance at Mr Kennedy told me I was not wrong to be wary.

"Well, well a Lady aboard my humble vessel, a lady spy no less, and beautiful to boot. Captain James Sawyer, at your service."


	2. Chapter 2

My first meeting with Captain Sawyer had not been what I had expected. I was expecting hostility, distain even, but not this fawning adoration that dripped from his tongue. Many men of the Navy resented my gender, were suspicious of my presence on board, convinced that I would bring them bad luck- one way or the other- but Captain Sawyer was courteous in a manic sort of a way, falling over himself to make me feel at my ease, snapping at Mr. Kennedy for taking too long to pull up my chair or pour refreshments. Something was not right and I did not intend to leave it too long before I found out. I concluded our business as quickly as I could and hurried from the room, pleading tiredness from my long journey.

As Mr. Kennedy pulled Captain Sawyers door closed behind us I took his arm and pulled him a little way along the deck, making sure we were out of earshot of crew and Captain.

"Captain Sawyer, has he always been this...," I made a slightly manic smile at Mr. Kennedy, "odd?"

Mr. Kennedy let out a peal of laughter which was cut short as his expression changed.

"I must confess that some of us are uneasy with his changeable behavior," he said gravely, "I have never served under such an erratic Captain."

"What do you mean, erratic?"

"He is like a day on the channel, my Lady, sunny one minute, squalls the next. We, well I, fear he may turn violent."

"You mean not everyone shares your opinion of him?" I asked.

"Many of the crew served with Captain Sawyer in the Egyptian Campaign, they have known him as Nelson's bravest and are loath to cast shadows on his reputation. Some of my fellow officers share my concerns," Mr. Kennedy said in a hushed voice, "And speak of the devil and he shall appear! Mr. Hornblower, you have not yet met our guest!"

Mr. Kennedy turned to greet a tall young officer with unruly brown hair; he had the look of one who had grown much in the last few years and had yet to catch up with his body and was subsequently all long arms and legs. He smiled kindly and touched his hat.

"Horatio Hornblower this is our guest, Lady Evangeline Foster," Mr. Kennedy gesticulated from one of us to the other then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "This, Horatio, is our Lady spy."

Smiling at Mr. Kennedy's mirth, he offered his hand which I readily took.

"A pleasure, Lady Foster, and I must say this is the first time I have met one of your gender spying at sea. I can see the benefits of course."

"Indeed, I have heard of no other besides myself. But I suppose that is more to the good, I am less suspicious alone." Too many of us scampering aboard ships would give away the ruse entirely.

"You must excuse us, Horatio, I am to show Lady Foster to her quarters." Mr. Kennedy interjected.

"Of course," Mr. Hornblower again touched his hat to me, "I shall have your chest delivered to you as soon as it has been brought aboard. Good day."

"Good day, Mr. Hornblower."

Mr. Kennedy resumed possession of my hand and steered me away from the gunwales. He lead me below where the corridors were too narrow for me to continue holding his arm. Without anything to anchor me I could feel the gentle rocking of the vessel, hear the small harbor waves sloshing against the sides pf the ship. It was at once soothing and horrifying to consider how many leagues may soon be under the fragile wooden deck; how little that could be done should Poseidon set his trident against us. I had forgotten how unnerving the idea of sailing was, how lonely it could be. Better than being stuck in a lofty mansion with nothing but my own memories for company, at least here there would be diversion.

"What do you plan to do, when in France?" Mr. Kennedy asked, startling me out of my ruminations, "Or is that top secret?"

He looked down at me with a teasing gleam in his eye, I smiled back.

"It is no great secret, at least amongst ourselves," I replied, "We have so little information about the French population, I will just be there to be amongst them. To report what they really think of Old Bony. All very dull, but vital, or so I'm told."

"Your French must be first rate them?"

"Oui, certainement," I said with a wink, " and yours?"

"Mr. Hornblower is more for the language than I," he said with a grimace and no small hint of a blush, poor boy, "I much prefer Spanish."

"Then you must teach me some, my Spanish is very poor I fear. You never know when it might come in handy in my line of work."

We had reached what appeared to be my cabin door, and Mr. Kennedy turned the handle and ushered me over the threshold of a small but neat cabin. There was a sturdy looking desk and chair at the far end of the room underneath a port hole, candles and paper set out ready, a hammock strung across the wall to the right and a small fireplace, complete with a barrel of firewood and twists of touch paper, to my left. A room one could only describe as Spartan. Captain Sawyer had offered me his cabin in a fit of gallantry, which I had hastily refused, I didn't want to be anywhere the Captain could easily find me.

"This is wonderful, Mr. Kennedy, thank you."

"You are more than welcome, my Lady," again the blush, "I shall be back at two bells to collect you for dinner. The Captain has requested you dine with him and the Doctor this evening."

I rolled my eyes inwardly, an evening with the Captain was something I could do without.

"Two bells?"

"Beg pardon, five o' clock civilian time, you will soon get used to navy ways." Mr. Kennedy smiled reassuringly.

Yes, I was sure I would. I smiled in return and Mr. Kennedy closed the door behind him. His footsteps receding down the hallway I spread out my arms and turned in the room. If I stood facing the desk I could touch the walls with both hands, the wood smooth beneath my fingers as I walked forwards to look out of the window. This side of the ship was facing away from land and I could see nothing but the enclosing harbor walls and the open ocean beyond. It was turning into a fine day, the chill in the wind burned away by the sun approaching it's highest, and the waves were lazily slapping on the hull. A waterman would say it was calm, but as a landlubber standing alone in the middle of the room I was very aware of the movement. Brushing aside my niggling dizziness I sat down at my desk and pulled a bundle of letters from my coat pocket.

The top letter was from the Admiralty, accepting my offer of service and assigning me to His Majesties Ship Indefatigable. The second was a coded message from the 'Alien Office'. Officially the Alien Office was a subdivision of the Home Office, set up to relocate immigrants from France and Spain, it's main purpose was far more secretive. The Alien Office was a hub of espionage and surveillance, keeping tabs on everything and everyone foreign, employing spies of various persuasions to assist in the current war effort. It was to them that I reported all my information and received all my orders. The letter was sending me to Paris, or at least the surrounding settlements to ascertain the general ilk of the population. I would only be there for the span of a week, collecting what I could before reporting to an exploring officer in Rouen. This letter would be burned as soon as I got a fire going.

The three letters underneath were my most precious belongings. They were from my late husband. Late, like he had failed to arrive for a meeting, I hated saying it. They weren't letters of great import, they weren't protestations of love or great sentiment, they were just everyday salutations. A letter to say he had arrived safely in London, a note to ask me to have a supper ready for his visiting friends and the last one to say he would return early from his northern estate. That was my favorite, it was signed with love and filled with promises, it was well thumbed and getting a little tatty at the corners. I ran my finger over ink that still looked fresh despite it's many readings, I half expected the ink to fade a little more with each look, like the memory of the man. I remembered a little less faithfully each day, a point that caused me more grief than I could say. He had only been gone a year, but it felt like a week, I felt I should remember him better.

I remembered the way his chestnut hair felt between my fingers, straight and thick, slightly longer than was fashionable. I remembered the warmth of his chest through his riding jacket and the way his whispered my name in the heat of passion. But I was forgetting the colour of his eyes, were they as green as spring grass or the deep green of verdant summer leaves? I remembered his beautiful Grecian profile but was forgetting the feeling of his embrace. It felt like I was losing him anew. Marriages of love in the upper classes were rare, and in times of sadness I wish I hadn't loved him the way I did. I could be home now, considering the imminent harvest and when I could decently set aside my mourning.

A soft, almost apologetic, tap on the door jarred me from my reveries and I opened the door to find a young midshipman standing next to my chest.

"You didn't carry that down here yourself, did you?" I asked incredulously.

"That I did, Madam," he said with no small hint of pride in his voice and a sweet blush on his face. How long would it take the gentlemen of this vessel to stop blushing in my presence? I suppose it had been a while since any of them had seen a woman, let alone a Lady.

"I'm most grateful, Mr...?"

"Midshipman Wellard, Madam." he replied.

"Thank you Mr. Wellard. Oh and you should probably call me 'Lady' on deck, the Captain seems the particular sort."

"Right you are, my Lady," he corrected himself, "That he is." It seemed Mr. Kennedy wasn't the only one to take notice of the Captain's irregularities.

Wellard bowed himself from the room in a touching display of reverence and I opened my chest to find something suitable for the Captain's table. I had bought a few gowns worthy of a banquet, just in case, but pushed them aside for now. It wasn't worth troubling myself with the difficult undergarments tonight. I chose a simple wool gown in a dark blue and set about making myself presentable. Once finished I lit a candle I found in one of the desk draws and used it to set light to the letter from the Alien Office. I dropped it in the grate and watched it curl and crumple to ash with some satisfaction. Content the letter was destroyed I tucked my remaining letters in my chest and closed the lid.

A tap at the door reminded me of my imminent dinner with the vacillating Captain. I opened the door to a smiling Mr. Kennedy and followed him down the corridor and up on to the deck.

"Will you or the other officers be joining us for dinner?"

"Sadly, no my Lady," he didn't look too sad, "I shall be eating with the other officers in the mess. I do wish you a pleasant evening with the Captain and the Doctor though."

"Liar," I mumbled causing him to chuckle.

The dinner itself was uneventful, both Captain and Doctor falling over themselves to compliment me. The Captain commented that my hair was the most beautiful russet and the Doctor said how unusual it was to find a lady with my colouring and grey eyes. I have hazel eyes but I suppose you can't blame a chap for trying, he did seem distinctly worse for drink by that point. They made a suitable couple, the Captain and the Doctor, both a little manic and full of stories of war. Not that they weren't fascinating, just that you wouldn't really want them in charge of a ship. Still, they weren't malicious at least.

I graciously thanked the Captain for his kindness and bowed out of his cabin after more time than I would have liked. As I walked across the deck in the fading light I could hear shouts and singing below deck, along with the rhythmic stamping of feet and more bawdy sounds. The men must be in high spirits. I made my way to my cabin, surprised to find my door already ajar. I crossed the threshold cautiously, but the room was empty. I looked around the room, the desk seemed undisturbed but my chest was another matter. The lid was askew and when I lifted it I found the contents disturbed. Someone had been looking for something. A closer inspection revealed a missing pair of stockings- silk I might add- but seemingly little else. A pervert aboard was hardly surprising but a sudden thought occurred and I scrabbled for my bundle of letters. One was missing. Bloody bastards, one was missing. Suddenly the bawdy sounds from below deck made sense. I paused only long enough to draw a stiletto knife from my chest. The leather handle was a reassuring weight in my hand as I stormed toward what I assumed was the common mess. I felt like I was wading through a haze of red, everything was heavy and I felt as though at the same time I couldn't breathe and I was breathing too heavily.

I crossed into the mess to see a rather scruffy individual waving my stockings above his head, ribbons trailing behind in a rather comical fashion. At least it would be comical if the bastard hadn't stolen them. I strode across the mess and pushed the surprised man over the nearest table, pinning him with his necktie and pointing the dagger at one wide eye.

"Where is my bloody letter?" I screamed, twisting his necktie.

He didn't say a word but his startled eyes flicked to the right. I followed the direction on his eyes to a fireplace where my precious letter was balling and crumbling to ash.


	3. Chapter 3

Shock made me drop the knife in my hand and desperation made me drop his necktie and scramble toward the fireplace. I was sure I didn't look at all lady-like but at that moment I didn't give a damn. I made a mad grab for the burning piece of paper but it crumbled in my hands, scattering sparks and ash on to the hearth. My anger crumbled with it, leaving only a gaping sense of loss and despondency. I stood slowly and turned to face my own knife pointed at my face. The room was deathly quiet as I flicked my eyes from the knife point to the man holding it. He was a singularly unattractive man, a lazy sneer covering his earlier humiliation and the reek of rum permeating the air around him. The good Doctor wasn't the only sot on board it seemed. He reached a hand out toward me.

"You don't want to do that, Randall," it was Styles, stood warily on my right, "She's a Lady." As if that were some kind of shield.

Randall just continued to sneer and took a handful of my dress in hand, fingers grazing my breast.

"I was gonna be content with yer stockings, but I canna turn down the real thing." An Irish accent, slurred with drink but definably Irish. For a moment no-one seemed to breathe, and I began to panic. I could take the knife back, easily, and probably Randall too, but what if his friends, assuming he had some, joined in.

"Release me or I will make you," I affected my best upper class English accent in the hope propriety would permeate his foggy brain, no such luck. My moneyed twang just seemed to infuriate him. The hand merely grazing my breast now squeezed it painfully, a lecherous look on his face. I ran out of patience.

I took a swaying step closer to him, he looked confused then pleased, thinking I was accommodating.

"That's right lass, go ea...ooofff!"

The wind blew out of him as I drove my knee into his most sensitive spot. As he doubled over I drove my elbow into his chin and snatched my knife from his hand. I grasped his chin with my left hand while I pressed the stiletto blade to his throat. Both of us were breathing hard, him from his winding and me from sheer annoyance.

"What's all this?" A voice boomed from the entrance to the mess. I turned my head to see a tall officer, closely followed by Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Hornblower entering the room. Expressions varied from surprise to anger, and just about everything in between.

"Get 'er off me, sir!" Randall whined.

"Coward," I snarled, nudging him away from my knife with my foot.

"I have yet to receive and answer," the officer boomed.

"She attacked me, sir! I never did nothing!"

The officers turned to me as one. The nameless officer looked incredulous, Hornblower looked impressed and Kennedy looked troubled. I balled my fists, only now noticing now how they stung, I must have burned them trying to get my letter. My letter. I turned back to the fireplace to see nothing but a few small scraps of charred paper on the hearth.

"He stole from me, rifled through my belongings and stole a letter," I looked back at them, "and a pair of stockings. Pervert," I spat verbally at him. Why steal a letter from me? What was it to him? Could he even read?

He seemed to take offence to that. He puffed up like rice in a hot pan and a red flush spread up from his chest until he resembled an angry autumn apple.

"No point puffing up like that," I said tartly, "you can't deny it when I caught you waving them over your head."

"What's this about, Mr. Bush?" A gravely voice made just about everyone jump and turn to the door once more. It was turning into a bizarre tennis match. I almost laughed until I saw the Captain standing in the doorway, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"The lady is accusing Randall of theft, sir." The officer called Bush addressed the Captain.

"Is she now? On board five minutes and already causing trouble, eh?" The man who had, not a hour ago, been praising the hue of my hair, now wore a scowl of contempt. Randall's objections only deepened the scowl the Captain was directing towards me. When he heard I had threatened Randall with a knife he turned an ugly shade of puce.

"Causing descent upon my vessel, it will not be borne, it will not!" At this point the Captain was just shy of stamping his feet and throwing his dinner on the floor. It would have been funny had it not been so alarming. He ranted for a further five minutes at least, any protestations on my part falling on deaf ears or adding fuel to the fire. Finally the Doctor hurried into the room, no doubt summoned by the sound of the Captain's ravings, which seemed to recall the Captain to his senses. He ended the tirade with a final warning to me about my behaviour, before being ushered from the room by the Doctor. I stared, open mouthed, at his ambling back, utterly humiliated. The man called Randall made towards me with a satisfied sneer on his face, stopped only by the barring arm of Mr. Bush who gave him a warning look.

I felt a hand gently shut my mouth for me, looking up to see Mr. Kennedy's sympathetic eyes on me. He took my arm and lead me back along the corridor to my room, once inside he closed the door.

"It's rather unseemly for you to be in my room unchaperoned," I said, feeling utterly detached, staring into the cold grate of the fireplace and seeing nothing but the charred remains of the letter I burned earlier. I could have laughed at the irony, but all I felt was loss.

"Let me see your hands," he said quietly.

"What?"

"Your hands, they're burnt."

I looked down, it was just about dark by now but even in the gathering gloom I could see they were red and blistered.

"I tried to get my letter," I said stupidly as he took my hands, "I thought to save it."

"What was so important as to risk fighting with Randall?"

"Nothing." I was in no mood to share my troubles with Mr. Kennedy, no matter how pleasant he may be. His brow creased briefly.

"I will return," was all he said as he marched from the room.

I sat down heavily on my little chair, hands cradled in my lap, they really did hurt now. I doubled up as the pain of what just happened hit me. I felt violated. I hadn't even had a chance to grab my stockings before I left the mess, chances are Randall still had them. I shouldn't have been so rude to Mr. Kennedy, he was only trying to help. Fat tears of anger, pain and frustration rolled down my cheeks and splashed onto my battered hands. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, this was supposed to be an escape, a distraction from all that had happened, instead I was curled here weeping for loss of my husbands letter. I mentally chided myself for this foolishness and straightened up just as the door opened and in walked the three Lieutenants.

I'm not entirely sure who was more horrified at this point, the gentlemen or I. Mr. Hornblower made an immediate and awkward bolt for the door, nearly upending the basin Mr. Kennedy was carrying and tripping over Mr. Bush's foot. The result was so comical I snorted through my tears and had to make a delicate dive for my handkerchief. Nose safely stanched and eyes dried I turned back to the gentlemen.

"If it was unseemly before, I'm not sure you have improved matters, Mr. Kennedy." The lieutenant in question was setting the basin upon my desk while Mr. Bush closed the door. With four humans inside the room seemed tiny and cramped. Mr. Kennedy smiled as brightly as the situation allowed and took my hands again. Apparently propriety meant little here.

"We shan't tell if you don't," he whispered conspiratorially, soaking a rag and pressing it to my hand. It was at once stinging and soothing.

"Well, do you see now Bush?" Mr Hornblower addressed the lieutenant as he bent to set a fire in the grate.

"I concede that he may have been somewhat overbearing..." Mr. Bush's statement was stopped by a loud snort from Mr Kennedy.

"Overbearing? The man is out of his tree! We haven't even left harbour yet and the man is ignoring ill discipline and berating women!" Mr. Kennedy was standing now, hands forgotten. The impassioned discussion between lieutenants continued for sometime, but I was getting tired and my hammock was starting to look truly inviting.

"Gentlemen!" As I shouted they turned as one to look at me, it was rather alarming as they had yet to school their features and all looked rather ferocious.

"I appreciate you coming here, but I don't see why you couldn't have this "discussion" elsewhere?"

They exchanged significant glances and Mr. Bush came forward.

"We have come to offer our escort, should you wish to leave the ship. We would not wish harm to come to you from our failings." I was touched by this, they all seemed to be genuinely good men.

"I thank you, but I will not be leaving," again the significant glances, " I know it may seem foolish but I have my reasons for being here; and I have my orders."

"Are you sure?" Hornblower asked, "This may be more dangerous than you thought. Even we have underestimated the Captain, I feel."

"I'm sure, I have a job to do and I shan't fall at the first hurdle."

"Very well, come gentlemen," Mr. Bush turned for the door, Hornblower in toe, "let us leave the Lady to her rest."

Mr. Kennedy made a move to leave but doubled back, hand in his pocket. He withdrew his hand to produce my stockings, neatly folded, and pressed them into my hands. I was rendered speechless by his kindness and bent my head to hide my welling eyes. He clasped my shoulder in understanding and turned to follow his shipmates. I noticed when he withdrew his hand that the knuckles were freshly reddened, making me suspicious as to how he had retrieved my undergarments. Nonetheless I was grateful and said as much before the door closed. I slid from the chair and turned the key in the lock. I would have no one else disturbing me tonight.

I changed quickly into my nightdress, grateful for Mr. Hornblower's fire, and clambered into my hammock. I was fully prepared to mull over the day's events but I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.


End file.
